Month: December 2018

My mom sent me a brochure for some weird PTSD treatment fad along with some other gifts and it really put me into the xmas spirit so I decided I would make a wish list for the first time in a decade or two.

“All I want is a new shirt and a bumper sticker”, I thought to myself after I watched this:

Bah humbug.

Hats off to my brothers and sisters in arms who are serving for whatever God-be-damned reason it may be. Only the good* people serving have my respect.

The Democratic Party, throughout history, has been deceitful and hateful throughout their existence. If you haven’t figured this out yet, you probably don’t listen very good, read very good, or think very good. That’s one-hundred as fuck.

If you’d like a history lesson, I’d be happy to walk you through it. Just let me know which point in time you’d like to discuss and I’ll pinpoint you in the right direction for a new approach to wisdom. The truth serum awaits.

I’m currently reading Edward Bernays’ Propoganda and it’s full of acorns that dropped in the vicinity of my feet from the shaken tree of truth. Bernays was the nephew of Sigmund Freud. He was a propogandist and a damn good one, unfortunately-kind-of. Though all of his efforts weren’t completely malicious in intent, the goal of using propoganda is always to gain leverage in power over the mass subject of the audience members– which in this case, includes a vast amount of the ‘United’ States of American people.

Here (below) is the video that sparked my sentiments tonight. Like many of you who end up reading this, I’ve dealt with wayyyyyyy too many people who remind me of this poor young lady in the yellow shirt:

It’s come to my attention several times that my writing is a little aggressive. Well, tough chocolate chip cookies, I’m writing with high-octane soulfulness. So, let me guide ye through another true story to gain perspective into my world of Hell.

Unlike some of the popular culture icons who threatened to leave The USA (and then didn’t) if the Giant Douche were to win , I was fully prepared to move to Costa Rica if this country were going to be led by the Terd Sandwich. She was the Secretary of State during more than half of my career in the military. I was deployed to an undisclosed location in Southwest Asia in support of Operation: Iraqi Freedom, Operation: Enduring Freedom, and Operation: New Dawn during both the assassination of UBL and the Libyan ambassador assassination on 9/11/2011– is it weird to say that the entire mentality of our base did not seem to change after either of these events. Many of us were scratching our heads… “so, like, UBL is at the bottom of an ocean somewhere, soooo, do we go home now, or– ?” Even when the Government shutdown occurred, we still went to work and nothing seemed any different. So in November ’16 I went to sleep early while the votes were being counted and I dreaded opening my eyes when I woke up- afraid to learn the results. I was absolutely ready for a getaway to Costa Rica, but I was so thankful when I read the verdict as it stood.

How was Terd Sandwich even allowed to work as a government official let alone the Commander in Chief? Here comes the pitch.

Somewhere in the summer of 2013 when I was in the last 2 years of active duty I sponsored a first-term Airman who was coming to MacDill from his technical training in Mississippi. He was highly-motivated, extremely smart, and would become one of the most reliable people in our work-section, surpassing several of his superiors within just a short amount of hands-on job training. He joined the Air Force in hopes of landing a comfortable living while he gained experience and paid off his student loans. Because education isn’t cheap, especially earning an out-of-state bachelor’s degree from an Ivy League school in Upstate New York, this particular stellar performer would end up being relieved of his duties within about a year because he wasn’t able to obtain a Top Secret security clearance, which is required to work on some of the systems we were maintaining and managing.

The reason he wasn’t able to obtain the necessary clearance: the subject becomes a high security risk susceptible to bribery from adversaries when its personal debt is too high. So, if a few tens of thousands of dollars’ debt disqualifies an efficient person at a low level… then… like… what about someone like this at the highest one:

Top video is from CNN, bottom is from Terd Sandwich’s own campaign. Top video shows her not answering the question, bottom video shows 2 people not helping answer the question.

How is this happening? You heard her. “I honestly don’t know.” I’ve got some ideas, but they’re not popular because in mine- nothing is free. Do you want free school? Serve your country then. But make sure you don’t have debt before you join, because they probably will kick you out. But don’t worry, you can still run for President when you hit 37, and you can take reigns of command of the military you were once not allowed to serve in, I guess. What in the actual fuck, you guys? What? In the actual? Fuck?

You know what makes sense? None of this. “How could we possibly let a predator like Trump in the White House? What has this world come to?! Woe is meeeeee.” -misinformed silly geese

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Thank goodness for that first e. I would hate to have the same last name as that Robert dude. We’re in quite a bit of a cahoots, literally. Down below is a video of a guy that is in the spotlight of the clusterfuck that is our justice system. *Big tall doofus man.

Follow the money. You’ll learn a lot about your country.

*big tall doofus man

Boner petite. I’m having a fucking awesome day.

Seen above, Harry Anslinger, one of our Nation’s honorable heroes, seems to have had a KKK hood crudely pasted over his head. Why someone would want to portray Anslinger as a racist bigot I have NO idea but it’s quite the piece of work, and worth a share. I can think of a couple reasons, I guess. https://prohbtd.com/was-harry-anslinger-a-racist

I’m transcribing my hand-written writing, which was written here in the car at a gas station parking lot, and is being transcribed from the same parking spot, and I have not left my post since I got here. The reason I started to write, was I had an encounter with what I am led to believe was a racist cashier. This belief comes from probably 10 transactions. I drive for a living and I drink coffee arguably for a living, and I like to come to this gas station for convenience and convenience only. Don’t “oooo Nick you’re over-reacting” me, bitch, you wasnt with me when I was shooting at the gym. I’m a fair and fairly honest fellow, and I can honestly say, I have determined the cashier to be a racist old man. With good reason not to like white people, he was a black man, and if you ask any fairly honest man, they’ll tell you it is reasonable, or else you havent asked an honest man. Here is the hand-writing:

Just a quick ‘thanks’ to all of the people who have a hard time with seeing past the skin-color of other people. Thanks to you for making this life interesting. Life is literally a never-ending mother-fucker-of-a-struggle. (Mac- I know that life is a bitch, I just thought she’d take a cab by now.) Never. Ending. I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this bullshit if it wasnt.

If it wasn’t a struggle, I’d be home right now, writing and making music.

If it wasn’t a struggle, I’d not be sitting parked at this Wawa gas station across Hillsborough from the casino with a coffee, waiting for a couple friends I just dropped off to have their fun, so I can insure they have a safe ride home.

If it wasn’t a struggle, I’d have already made enough music at home today, I’d be parked across Hillsborough, and I’d be inside the casino drinking casino-coffee served by a chick around my age who might wanna get my digits, I’d be gambling, telling jokes and laughing all of my boners off without any care in the world.

If it wasn’t a struggle I’d have brought the bookbag with me that I never leave anywhere and then I’d have grabbed the $7 cash that’s wadded in the top pocket and turned it into $50 by throwing it in the gas tank and driving around some drunk hoes, I wouldn’t have cared about the cashier, I’d-a had shit to do. I still would have posted an Instagram story about it but then I would most likely have went about my life and swept this under the rug with the rest of the shit, who knows what…

If it WASN’T a struggle, I wouldn’t have ever had to come here to write this. I wouldn’t have had to pay an absurd amount of money to have my own separate media medium to dislodge myself from association from all the bullshitters venting their petty nonsense on free social media, clogging up the stream so that us good mother fuckers cant put some words in your mouths for a change. I wouldn’t have had to do this, but because the black cashier who took my coffee money definitely doesn’t fucking much care for white people who have my face. Or he just definitely hates all other men, because the lady in front of me must have been a Goddess if you compare the two encounters, except she was black too so it really doesnt help solve much. She was also closer to his age than I. I dont think they were family because I dont think any black people are from West Virginia. That was a joke about incest and also a joke about there not being any incestual black folks from West Virginia. Because I’ve never heard of any is why I say it like that. If you know of any, please correct me. I’ve definitely been wrong before.

Just take my fucking word for it- racism is alive and well. So, thank you, again- all the generations before the last couple. Thank you. Thank you so god damn much for helping me write this.

In other news…

So I was watching a Malcolm X speech today on YouTube, but I never finished it because I had to run. So, I’ll just post it here and you can fill me in on how the last 10 minutes go.

Also, the weed I just smoked to get high enough to feel like writing– let’s just say it was included as driver gratuity. It’s not the first time its happened (only been driving for income for the last few weeks). Will it be the last? No– God-willing, of course.

Same Jamaican passenger who gave me the ganja clued me in on the biggest secret I’ve heard since I learned the Roosevelt family gained its family successive wealth from illegal opium markets– BOB MARLEY’S DAD WAS A FUCKING GRINGO! HE WAS A MIXED KID! (He didnt just blurt that out like I just did, we worked into it, but I don’t have the time or the energy to reconstruct in my mind and write out the conversation. I will say that the conversation started because I was listening to Reggae in the automobile we were all cruising in. His girlfriend was here, too.

Here’s the exact picture the homie showed me while I was driving.

I could not believe this shit and I still can’t 3 hours later. I’m willing to bet I wont believe it tomorrow either– says the guy with no money parked across from the casino.

The best reason to continue living in this life is to become the best version of yourself that is humanly possible. If you are not better than the you of yesterday, in my opinion, you are essentially wasting your time, or whatever.

Is today the first day of the rest of your life? Do you have unanswered questions? So do I. It’s day 1 for me too. A peculiar elderly Peruvian Lyft driver of mine told me in January that the answers to all of my questions are “all right there in front of you [me]” and that simply need to watch, look, and listen to discover it myself. Just about every day since then, I’ve thought of the long conversation I had with the mysterious stranger that night, and out of the purest serendipitous circumstances after heeding his words of wisdom, I was never more sure of what I’m sure of as I write this optimistic-minded post. No matter how sarcastic my writing gets, somewhere in the message is a glimmer of hope. I do not know why it exists or why it’s there, but it is. The fact that I recognize it is enough to move me on to do what I do the next time I wake up and see what’s out there.

Serendipity. Serendipity. Serendipity.

“…However, let it go. It is the will of God that we must have critics, and missionaries, and Congressmen, and humorists, and we must bear the burden. Meantime, I seem to have been drifting into criticism myself. But that is no thing. At the worst, criticism is nothing more than a crime, and I am not unused to that.” -Mark Twain, on criticism

Cut to the scene where I will be myself and speak my mind regardless of what criticism shows itself on the horizon. Press play. That’s right now, yo. I will not be intimidated by some AH who has nothing better to do with their time but hatefully criticize a thought that shaves against the grain of the mainstream mustache. I’ve lived enough, I don’t feel like I need any more stories, yet I continue to write them and share new stories for nothing much more than the fuck of it. Why would any sane person put themselves out there the way so many like us braves have, for nothing but the fuck of it? Are we reaching for love?